


Goodwill Towards Men Means Brothers, Too, Sherlock

by suchanadorer



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, fluffy goodness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-24
Updated: 2011-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-28 00:05:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/301571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchanadorer/pseuds/suchanadorer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock, John, Mycroft and Lestrade attend Molly's Christmas concert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goodwill Towards Men Means Brothers, Too, Sherlock

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Part of the 2011 Sherlock Secret Santa project. For grinningcheshire.

It’s already warm in the church: real candles flickering by the windows and around the edges of the risers set up in the chancel, while artificial ones shine steadily in the fixtures hanging from the high ceiling. The pillars are wrapped with pine garland mixed with twinkling lights, and a Bach cantata is floating from the speaker system, the music hanging above the audience like a fog. The space is filled with the quiet murmur of conversation and the rustle of coats and bags as people move up the aisle and search out the best available seats among those that remain. Two girls in velvet dresses and patent leather shoes push past as John and Sherlock make their way among the crowd.

John gestures towards a half-empty pew, meeting Sherlock’s withering glance with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Sherlock sighs and pulls his coat tighter around himself as he inches into the pew. John follows, looking back over his shoulder as he shrugs off his coat and folds it in his lap, revealing a red jumper with a white pattern across the chest and shoulders. Sherlock’s mouth drops open, but he closes it again with a hint of a smile.

“Do you really think I’m going to flee as soon as the concert starts?”

“No, but I’m taking any chances, either. It was difficult enough convincing you to come.” John shifts in his seat, one hand on the back of the pew as he strains to look back towards the door. Sherlock turns and lifts his head.

“What are you looking for?”

“Lestrade, and your brother.” Sherlock groans and rolls his eyes, slumping down in his seat. He pulls his cell phone from his pocket and flicks it open, eyes skimming over the screen. “It’s Christmas and this is Molly’s choir’s concert. Lestrade was already invited but I told him he could sit with us if he got here in time, and it’s not like your brother wouldn’t know where you’re going anyway. Ah! There he is.” John stands and waves, smiling when Lestrade sees him and starts making his way up the aisle. He shakes John’s hand and then reaches towards Sherlock, who rewards him with a curt nod and a perfunctory smile in his direction before returning to the screen of his phone. Lestrade and John exchange a glance and John gestures to the seat beside him.

“What’s his problem, then?” Lestrade nods towards Sherlock as he unties his scarf, bundling his gloves into it and tucking the package into the space as his side.

“Christmas music, and especially Händel’s Messiah is, and I quote, ‘cheap, pedestrian, and unimaginative’.” John rolls his eyes towards the roof of the church and touches each finger in turn as if reciting a well-learned list. “But I actually think this particular sulk is because I told his brother he was welcome to join us.”

Lestrade raises his eyebrows and he leans forward to look past John. “I didn’t know you had a brother. Five years and I had no idea.” Sherlock glances in his direction and sighs, thumbs working the buttons of his phone until John reaches over, plucks it from his hands and slips it into the pocket of his jeans.

“You can have it back after the concert. I’ll not have you getting a text in the middle of this and dashing off. London’s criminal classes-“ he gives Lestrade a nod, “-and Scotland Yard will both just have to manage without you for a couple of hours.” Sherlock gapes, about to protest before something over John’s shoulder catches his attention. His mouth fixes in a sour frown, eyes narrowing before he looks away to watch the choir and orchestra take their places.

“Hello, gentlemen. My, that is a festive jumper, John. Detective: I don’t believe we’ve met. Mycroft Holmes.” Mycroft tugs at his gloves while he greets them, extending a hand to John, then Lestrade. Casting a baleful eye over his brother, he says, “Really, Sherlock. It’s Christmas. You used to love Christmas. Do try to enjoy yourself.” He slots himself into the end of the pew, hanging his coat over the back.

“Sherlock loved Christmas?” Lestrade turns a bit in his seat, looking from one Holmes brother to the other.

“Oh yes. When we were younger he started looking forward to it at the beginning of November, but a large part of that comes from having someone to celebrate with. Perhaps the addition of Doctor Watson into his life with provide a return to the joy of old.”

“He wasn’t very enthusiastic about coming to this concert tonight,” John sighs, watching the parade of black-clad men and women fill the risers.

“He is simply concerned that the first violin will be unfit for the music,” Mycroft says airily. “Sherlock prefers performing and being watched to watching others perform. In this case, though, it is a needless worry. I have checked and the man sitting in the first chair is more than capable.”

“Capable. What would you know of a capable violinist?” Sherlock leans forward, looking Mycroft over condescendingly before slouching back against the pew.

“I played piano and cello when we were growing up. Sherlock has always considered the violin to be the finest instrument. Everything else, even the other string instruments, are inferior.”

Lestrade holds his hands out and motions for quiet. “They’re starting.” He points towards the first violinist as he stands. “There’s Molly.” Lestrade elbows John gently and gestures in her direction. She is standing a bit from the center, all her concentration on the conductor as he walks out. Lestrade moves to raise his hand to move when Sherlock reaches across John and stops him, giving his head a little shake.

The conductor is a tall, thin man with wire-rimmed glasses and almost no hair, despite his apparent middle age. He lifts his eyes and scans from one side of the choir to the other, giving them all a reassuring smile. A quick glance to the first violinist and he lifts his baton, and the concert starts.

By the end of the overture Sherlock is sitting upright in his seat, lips slightly parted as he watches the orchestra. The tenor soloist is a slender blonde man with light brown eyes. He looks nervous, but when he sings there is nothing but confidence. He smiles and moves slightly with the music, using his face as well as his voice to convey the message in the texts.

The choir perform beautifully, filling the church with ringing voices and shifting harmonies. Molly’s attention is fixed on the conductor, her expressions filled with emotion as she sings. The other soloists come and go with mixed reactions from the Holmes brothers. After the first bass solo Mycroft and Sherlock lean back in their seats and share a glance that, where it between any other two people, would be described as commiserating. The soprano soloist is met with silent but enthusiastic praise, and Sherlock relaxes noticeably after her first solo. His left hand lies palm-up on his knee, and it is somewhere around the middle of “Glory To God” that John realizes Sherlock is playing along with the violins, his fingers moving along an invisible neck while his right hands moves in small motions to draw an unseen bow.

They rise and stretch for the first intermission, Lestrade smiling widely. “Thank you, John, for making sure I came to this. I was just gonna stay home and watch telly, but this is really spectacular. I’ve only met Molly a few times. I had no idea…” He scans the jumble of singers at the other end of the church before John motions for him to move out into the aisle. Members of the choir are standing at the back of the church with trays of gingerbread cookies and small paper mugs of mulled wine and hot chocolate.

“I will admit that this is much better than I had anticipated. The orchestra are doing a commendable job interpreting the music, although the soloists are of varying quality.” Sherlock nods to the young man holding the tray of mugs and turns to face the others again. “I do hope we’ll get to meet Molly’s new boyfriend after the concert.”

“You hope?” Lestrade looks taken aback. “Is this your Christmas spirit coming out?”

“This,” Mycroft says, “is Sherlock telling you that he knows. Yes, she does seem to be spending a lot of time glancing towards the tenor section. Have you figured out which one it is yet?” Sherlock tilts his head, giving him a withering glance. Mycroft smiles mildly. “I’m sure it will come to you.”

They pile back into their places just in time for the second part to begin. The warmth of the church and the relative calmness of the music lulls them; twice John is forced to gently dig his elbow into Lestrade’s side to rouse him when his head tips down.

The soprano soloist moves forward and Mycroft and Sherlock shift in their seats. John glances from one to the other, watching Sherlock’s jaw tighten as Mycroft lifts his head to get a better view. The violin starts and Sherlock’s head as well as his hands move with the music, and Mycroft is mouthing the words as he watches her sing.

It is not a long aria, and after a moment’s pause the orchestra plows forward into the next movement. Sherlock’s chest heaves; he meets Mycroft’s gaze but they both look away quickly. Mycroft coughs into this fist and Sherlock wipes distractedly at his nose. A tissue materializes in John’s right hand. His eyes never leave the conductor, and he folds his hands silently in his lap again after Sherlock takes it.

John, Sherlock and Mycroft rise in unison at the start of the Hallelujah chorus; Lestrade follows a moment after, grinning broadly. The choir’s enthusiasm is contagious and by the end all of them are smiling. There is wild applause as soon as the conductor lowers his baton. Lestrade’s eyes are shining and he grins open-mouthed at John.

“That was incredible!” Lestrade leans towards John, who smiles back at him. Even Sherlock looks impressed, a faint smile under wide eyes with raised brows.

They don’t move to the back of the church during the second intermission. Sherlock stands and leans against the back of the pew in front of them, unfurling like a cat, stretching his arms above his head and rolling his shoulders. Mycroft pulls out his cell phone and thumbs through his messages while Sherlock looks on, casting an occasional glance in John’s direction. John simply shakes his head.

“After the concert. And anyway it hasn’t so much as buzzed.”

“I guess everyone who ever contacts you is here anyway, eh?” Lestrade laughs at his own joke but stops when both John and Sherlock turn to glare at him.

The third and final part of the concert goes quickly, and as the final chord of the Amen rings through the church the audience rise to their feet again, applauding the orchestra and soloists. When the conductor waves his arm to acknowledge the choir Lestrade sets two fingers in his mouth and lets out a long, loud whistle. Mycroft and Sherlock look on, horrified, as John laughs and does the same.

The crowd disperses slowly, and Mycroft makes a polite excuse to slip away as soon as possible, wishing the others a Merry Christmas before disappearing out the door of the church. John decides not to question how Sherlock has already retrieved his cell phone as Molly makes her way through the crowd, smiling and waving when she catches sight of Lestrade.

“Hello! Oh, Sherlock! Thank you so much for coming!” He looks up at her and smiles, giving her a quick nod before returning to his phone. She ducks her head, trying to make eye contact with him. “What did you think?”

“It was lovely, really well done. We all enjoyed it.” Lestrade says as he steps closer, shooting Sherlock a look as he turns his back to them.

A tall, well-built man with a shock of red hair appears out of the crowd. He approaches Molly from behind and wraps his arms around her waist. She squeaks in surprise, then laughs and leans against him when she sees who it is.

“This is Martin. He’s my…” She bites at her lower lip and looks at Sherlock’s back, then lowers her voice. “He’s my boyfriend. We’ve been together for a few weeks now. We met in the choir. Martin, this is Detective Inspector Lestrade, and Doctor Watson.” Martin leans around her, one arm still around her waist as he shakes their hands in turn. “Martin’s a pilot. He’s an airline captain.”

“You don’t have to tell them that.” Martin smiles and plants a kiss on her cheek. “Come on, Arthur’s been talking about meeting you for two weeks now, and Douglas won’t stop teasing me about your being imaginary until he sees you for himself. Nice to meet you all. Happy Christmas!” He grabs her hand and leads her off through the crowd. She waves apologetically over her shoulder before trotting off after him.

“Well, chaps, thank you for the company. I guess I’d best be off.” Lestrade loops his scarf around his neck, glancing towards the door. John pushes up the sleeve on his jacket and looks at his watch.

“Do you have to? I mean, Sherlock’s got nothing on right now.” There is a loud sigh from behind John. “I can’t make people commit crimes, Sherlock, and especially not at Christmas,” he says, before turning back to Lestrade. “Anyway, what about a pint? It’s not that late yet.” Lestrade nods, grinningly broadly.

“Yeah, sure, yeah, that’d be great. Better than a night home. He coming?”

Sherlock slips his phone into the inside pocket of his jacket and begins pulling his gloves on. “I am right here, and can hear you perfectly.” he sneers. “Yes, I’m coming, of course. After you.”

Lestrade moves towards the door first; John moves to follow but Sherlock lays a hand on his arm, stopping him.

“John.” Sherlock looks away, watching the crowd for a moment before he turns to John again. “Thank you for bringing me.”

John grins, stifling it hurriedly as he glances quickly at the doors. “You’re welcome. Now come on, or he’ll think we’ve snuck off without him.”

Sherlock motions for John to go first, tying his scarf as they step out of the door of the church. Lestrade is nearby, rubbing his gloved hands together and bouncing on his toes to ward off the cold. The three of them turn up their collars against the evening air as they descend the steps of the church and head off in search of a pub.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Elyse](http://malcs.tumblr.com) for the help with editing!


End file.
